


Cabin Fever

by MaggiesAngel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, F/M, Kissing, Knotting, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 11:44:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15818223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaggiesAngel/pseuds/MaggiesAngel
Summary: After being injured during a hunt, bad weather and a road washout trap Sara and Dean at a remote cabin on their way back to the bunker. A cabin that’s actually hers. While they’re waiting for the road to be repaired and her to heal, unexpected complications arise. Something she never wanted Dean to know.How can she explain that she’s not the beta he always believed her to be?





	Cabin Fever

Dean helped Sara through into the cabin, kicked the door closed behind them, water dripping everywhere. He dropped the gear he held with one hand, kept his other arm tightly around her and started to lead her past the kitchen.

“No; help me _onto_ the table,” she hissed.

“The bed would be more comfortable,” Dean argued.

“Yeah, it would. But I’m bleeding like a stuck pig and stitching me up is gonna take a while. I don’t want the blood soaking into the mattress, and the table will be easier to clean off,” she replied as he helped her up onto the hard kitchen surface.

Dean’s phone rang while he watched her use her knife to cut the leg of her jeans open, exposing it from her hip to her ankle. He answered it with a gruff, “What?”

“Well, hello to you, too,” Sam replied.

Sara took the phone to hit speaker on it and set it down so they could continue to work and said, “Job’s done, Sammy, but it’s a mess.”

“ _She’s_ a mess,” Dean corrected. “And we got caught in a damned monsoon of a storm; had to hide out in some cabin Sara knew about.”

“Shit,” Sam muttered. “How bad are you?”

“The bastard used dogs, Sam,” she growled. “A demon used actual dogs; not hellhounds, _no_ . He made me kill _real dogs_!”

“How bad, Sara?” Sam insisted. The younger brother wasn’t surprised she was so upset but wanted her to focus on the problem at hand.

“She’s torn up,” Dean replied while he rummaged through the duffel bag of medical supplies. “Her entire thigh is covered in bites and bleeding all over the damned place.”

“I don’t want to be the one to ask, but…”

“Yes, I checked them all with silver,” Sara finished for him. She cried out in pain as Dean poured alcohol on the wounds, then panted through the pain. “And, weirdly enough, they all had rabies tags on their collars; so, I guess I’m safe there. Must’ve been the meatsuit’s pets before he got taken. How he turned them into asshole dogs, I’ll never know. And before you ask, no, the guy didn’t survive the exorcism, either. But now, we need to put about a hundred stitches in me, and I’ll be all set.”

“And wait for this damned rain to pass,” Dean muttered as he readied the needle. “Sam, check the weather forecast on your computer, would you?”

“Sure, where you are guys?”

Sara frowned and licked her lips, then she said softly, “My cabin, Sammy.” She watched Dean frown at her but ignored him while she heard the soft exhale on the other end of the phone.

“Okay, give me a second to pull it up.”

Sara took the bottle of whiskey and drank several long swallows as Dean started sewing and nodded at him after she whimpered; it had to be done, she knew that. Her hands gripped the table, and she fought to think of anything other than how many sutures this was going to take, before she said, “Sam, talk to me here, dude. I need some distraction.”

He could hear the pain in her voice, and he nodded back in the bunker. “Uhh, yeah. I’ve got the satellite pulled up,” he replied. “You’re not even in the middle of the storm yet; there’s still a couple hours to pass over, I’m guessing. This thing is huge.”

“Will this place hold up?” Dean asked, his voice soft with concentration.

“Short of a tree falling on it, it’s solid,” Sara replied. “So, let’s just hope that doesn’t happen.”

“And the Impala is parked…?” Sam started.

“The garage got finished to hold more than my bike,” Sara finished. “So, she’s safe.”

Sam nodded. “Then the pair of you should be good, as long as you have enough food and supplies.”

“Dried and canned foods, yeah, we’re set,” Sara replied. “We have some fresh stuff in the car, including beer that we picked up before we finished the case, to celebrate once we were done. Priorities shifted to looking for a place to patch me up that was dry.”

“Yeah, that would be the bigger issue,” Sam agreed. He could hear the soft whimpers, hated that he was so far and could help neither her nor his brother with patching her up. “Guessing he was the usual type of demon?”

“Arrogant as hell and annoying as fuck,” Sara confirmed. She let out a long sigh of relief as Dean took a break from finishing one set of wounds. She took several long swallows of whiskey again, then nodded at the man. “Keep going; the longer the wounds are open, the worse the chance of infection. And I want to get this over with as soon as we can.”

Dean frowned but nodded. “I don’t like hurting you,” he admitted.

“Like I haven’t put a needle in you enough times,” she replied, clenching her eyes closed when he started in again. “In both of you,” she amended, remembering Sam was on the phone. “Remember that…what the hell was that thing again, Sammy? Where I had to put all of those stitches in your back?”

“Which one?” Sam asked with a chuckle. “The Wendigo, or the skinwalker?”

“Oooh, I forgot about the skinwalker,” Sara replied with a short, pained laugh.

“And I’m pretty sure you had to clean us both up after that mess,” Dean added with a small grin.

“Geezus, yes,” she agreed. “I should’ve counted how many stitches I put into you both on that one.”

Sam chuckled softly. “Don’t we say that nearly every time? That we should keep track?”

“Pretty sure we do,” Dean agreed. “And again, I didn’t.”

Sara shook her head. “Damn. One of these days, we’re gonna have to start. Just so we can keep track of who has the record at any given time.”

“What should the prize be?” Sam asked. He knew it was a pointless conversation, but it was keeping her mind occupied, which was what he wanted.

“Alcohol, of course,” Sara replied. “You know I like my single-malt.”

“You’ve got the most expensive taste here,” Dean groaned as he worked. He knew what his brother was doing, and continued with the distraction. “If you’re the one picking, we’re in trouble for sure.”

Sara gasped, then laughed. “You’re only in trouble if you’re losing,” she replied. “You’d love it if you won; you’d get to drink the good stuff, and not have to pay for it yourself!”

“Guess it’s hard to argue with you there,” Sam agreed. “But for today, I think you won this round. I’ll make sure there’s a bottle waiting here when you get back.”

She laughed and relaxed as Dean stood back and nodded. “All right, Sara, I’m done. Everything should hold,” he said with a sigh, wiping his hands on a clean towel. “I wanna cover it in alcohol again, then I’ll have to wrap it.”

“Works for me,” she agreed. “I’m just glad the needle’s done; that’s always the worst part.”

“Do you need anything else from me?” Sam asked softly.

She let out a long sigh and stretched out the rest of her muscles carefully, not aggravating the left leg and wounds there as thunder rumbled loud overhead. “No, I think we’re good. Thank you for the distraction, Sammy; I appreciated it more than you know.”

“Anytime, Sara. You’ve done the same for me. I’ll check in later.”

She heard him disconnect and relaxed back on the table. Before Dean could pour the whiskey on her leg, Sara grabbed his arm. “I’m covered in blood; so before we wrap anything, I’m going for a shower. Save the booze, I’m gonna want it later,” she said with a grin. “I’ve got antibacterial soap.”

“Can you even move enough to shower?” he asked doubtfully.

“It’s a stand-up stall,” she replied. “I don’t have to step into anything, so it’ll be easy enough.” She rolled carefully off the table to her feet but tried to bend to grab her duffle bag for her clothes. The move made her cry out and curse; Dean growled at her and rushed to pick it up for her.  
  
“Are you _sure_ you can manage this shower, darlin'? I don’t need you ripping any of those stitches.”

Sara sighed in annoyance. “Maybe you can carry the duffle bag in for me?”

“That sounds like a better plan now, doesn’t it?” he asked gruffly. Dean still wasn’t happy, but at least she was being reasonable. He looked around the bathroom, decided that she was right, stepping in and out of the shower wouldn’t be too much of a risk. He turned the shower on before he left, then turned and said, “If you lock this door, I will break it down. Understood?”

She laughed and nodded. “And I will shoot you for that; this cabin is in good shape, Dean Winchester; no breaking the place apart. But, I promise not to lock the door.”

“I’ll get some food going,” he said with an approving nod and glanced up when another crack of thunder sounded overhead. “And hope we have power long enough to make it.”

“There’s a generator, even if we lose the lines,” she assured. “But go, and let me clean up. I won’t be long.” Sara watched him close the door and carefully stripped out of her clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor; they were covered in blood and torn. She had no idea if they were salvageable or not, and right now, didn’t care.

While she waited for the water to get as hot as she could bear it, Sara reached into the medical cabinet and took pain meds and a large dose of prophylactic antibiotics. She then stepped in and held the whimper as the spray hit her injuries. Smaller wounds and bruises made themselves known under the water, and she was grateful she had a rainfall-showerhead and not something with a harsher spray. She cleaned quickly, washing her hair and watched the pinkish water run down the drain as the water slowly rinsed off the blood. Grabbing the antibacterial soap, she grimaced; she always hated this part because it stung like hell, but she carefully washed all the wounds she had.

Sara turned off the water and wrapped her hair in a towel before she grabbed another one to dry off with. Underwear and an oversized t-shirt were perfect to wear since she knew pyjama pants would only hurt, even once the wounds were wrapped; they still seeped even with the sutures in.

She limped out of the bathroom and found Dean in the kitchen; his flannel was tossed over a chair to dry, his jeans wet from the knees down, his t-shirt damp. “Did you go back outside?”

“I grabbed the beer and some supplies from the car,” he replied from the stove.

“Ah, yeah,” Sara agreed.

Dean took the pot off the stove and poured two bowls of soup, then glanced up at her. “Let’s wrap you up before we eat. I figure if you lean against the bar stool, I can wrap up your thigh, and then tape gauze over your hip.”

“Makes the most sense. I figured something similar,” Sara said with a nod. She moved to where he indicated and pulled up the t-shirt to bare the necessary skin. She watched Dean shake his head and she grinned. He knelt next to her and went to work, quickly wrapping rolls of gauze around her leg and up, tapping it in place. She opened large rectangular packages to cover up onto her hip and held them in place while he tapped. “Hell, a little bit more, and I could look like a mummy!”

“It’s not funny,” he growled while he stood. “You look like hell.”

Sara pouted at him playfully. “I thought I looked adorable,” she replied and pulled out the towel in her hair, flicking water in his direction.

Dean tried to continue to frown at her, but her playful grin was infectious and he sighed. “Just eat your damned soup,” he said when a grin broke through. “Then I’ll go for a shower and put on some dry clothes.” When she tried to grab one of the bowls he pointed towards the couch, knew she wouldn’t be comfortable sitting anywhere else, and rolled his eyes when she grabbed spoons. “Seriously, just sit your ass down.”

“I’m not an invalid, Dean,” she argued.

“No, but you’re gonna take it easy while you’re healing for a change,” he replied. “It’s not always easy to keep an eye on you at the bunker. But here, in one room? I think I can keep an eye on you.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but it was hard to argue; not one hunter she knew was good at sitting still after an injury. “Like you or Sam are any damned better,” she muttered then started eating her soup. Sara watched him narrow his eyes; she knew that the alpha didn’t like to be challenged, none of them did, but that had never stopped her before.

Dean said nothing and they finished eating and took her bowl. “Try to keep your ass in that spot while I go for my shower, would you?”

“No promises.”

He growled but grabbed his own duffle bag and went into the bathroom. By the time he made it back out into the main room, noticed that she had moved over to the bed. Sara had propped her left leg up on a pillow, pulled a sheet up over herself, and was half-asleep.

“Didn’t listen,” she murmured. “And I’m not sorry.”

Dean grinned slightly. “If you’re tired, can’t blame you,” he said with a chuckle. “I’ll take the couch.”

“Oh, please,” she snorted. “Not like we haven’t shared a bed enough times on the road. I’ll be passed out soon enough, and this bed is big enough.” Sara shrugged and closed her eyes; she could feel her body dragging at her, needing sleep to help her heal. “S’up to you.”

He smiled and tucked the sheet around her. “All right, darlin',” he agreed and studied the cabin; the bed was king-sized, the place was definitely well lived-in. Dean was surprised that Sara had called it hers, and yet he had never heard of it before.

The storm still raged outside, the rain pounded on the roof, but the building was solid, as she had said. He turned off the lights and settled into the far side of the bed; it was early, but it’d been a hell of a day, and sleep didn’t seem like a bad idea.

*****

Sara woke slowly, the pain in her left thigh and hip forced into her unconscious mind and made a whimper crawl from her throat. She felt the bed shift behind her, knew the sound had disturbed him, before Dean asked, “Need some pain meds, darlin'?”

“I gotta get up anyway, I’ll get them,” she replied as she slowly started to move. “If I can ever get out of the damned bed.”

Dean chuckled and got out of the bed, walked around to her side, carefully moved the pillow that had been between her legs, and held out his hands. He watched her frown at him and shrugged. “I know you hate getting help as much as I do, but right now you need it. So, suck it up, sweetheart.”

Sara stuck her tongue out at him but took his hands and let Dean pull her slowly to her feet. He steadied her, then released her hands so she could limp carefully to the bathroom.

“I’m gonna head out to Baby and grab the rest of the supplies since it’s not raining so hard now,” Dean announced when she reached the door.

She turned to see him peering out one of the windows and nodded. “Yeah, may as well bring everything in, just in case; we may only be in the eye of this thing.”

“That’s what I thought, too,” he agreed. “I’ll call Sam when I’m back inside, see what he has to say.”

Sara watched while he pulled on his jacket and ducked out the door. She relieved herself and was splashing water on her face when her cell phone rang. Recognizing Sam’s number, she answered it on speaker and she made her way slowly back to the main room. “Morning, Sammy. How’s things?”

“You sound pretty happy,” he replied. “Had your pain meds yet?”

“Just about to take them now,” she replied, shaking a few onto her hand. “We were gonna call you to see how we looked with the storm; how much longer do we have to wait until it’s over?”

“Actually, looks like you might be through it,” Sam replied with a nod.

“We have a bigger problem,” Dean growled as he came stomping through the front door.

Sara looked up, saw the dark look on his face and frowned. “Uh-oh; what’s wrong?”

“The road’s washed out. The rains took down a few trees farther down, and there was a mudslide; we aren’t going anywhere for at least a few days.”

Sara swore softly. “I’ll call the sheriff, let him know I’m up here. Otherwise, they won’t bother trying to clear it anytime soon; no one else uses this laneway,” she said. “Sam, I gotta go.”

“Keep me posted,” he agreed.

Sara nodded and ended the call, then started the process of letting the locals know she was up at the cabin. They knew her from her ‘vacations,’ as the locals thought they were, and Sara explained she had been travelled through the area and taken shelter at the cabin for the storm. The sheriff promised to try and have the laneway cleared but informed her that several others had also been blocked, and once Sara confirmed she had supplies for a few days, told her she was on the list.

She sighed heavily when she got off the phone and fell back to lay on the couch where she sat. “Well, we’re stuck for a little while,” she told Dean.

“Got that impression,” he replied with a nod. He looked around the cabin and grinned. “At least you have stuff to do; are those old movies?”

“Black and whites; don’t get cable up here, and the internet is spotty when it works,” Sara explained. “Phone reception is good because I’ve put in a booster for it; which is why I just do everything on my phone when I’m up here. I stopped getting out my laptop when I get up here.”

Dean watched as she limped over to sit on the couch and studied her carefully, then moved to look out the window. “Rain’s letting up,” he commented. “Want to pick a movie?”

“Hell, I know everything here by heart,” she replied with a shrug. “Pick something you haven’t seen in a while; I promise, I’ll be good with it.”

He grinned and nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

*****

It’d been three days of being holed up at the cabin. Sara had gotten a call from the sheriff that they were working on her roadway, but it would take another day or two. The locals asked if she needed anything, food, water, or any other supplies, but she assured them that they were still well-stocked, and just to focus on clearing them a path out.

Dean had left an hour ago; he’d gone out for fresh air and to check the area every day since they’d become stranded. Sara stared at herself in the bathroom mirror and shook her head. “This is _not_ happening,” she whispered, glad to be alone. She picked up the phone and video called Sam.

He answered with a frown that she had bothered with video. “Sara? What’s wrong?”

“It’s only been a month,” she replied with a whine, her eyes wide as she stared at him. “This shouldn’t be happening.”

Sam’s expression changed to one of shock. “You’re sure?”

“My temperature is all over the place, I’m not hungry but I could drink gallons of water,” Sara replied. “And I can’t stop staring at Dean. Geezus, I was half-happy he left to go out to look around, and the rest of me wanted to cry that he left.”

Sam rubbed a hand over his face. “The blood loss,” he guessed.

“It’s the only thing I can think of, too,” she confirmed. “It’s thrown my already fucked-up hormones even farther out of whack.” Sara moved to sit on the couch. “Why couldn’t this case have been with you?”

He listened to her whispered words, saw the pain on her face, and he ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry,” he replied. “I know you didn’t want Dean to know, but… I don’t think this is going to be as bad as you expect, Sara.”

“I have to explain to him that I’m a fucked-up, not-quite omega,” she snapped angrily. “That I have sort-of heats, but even those are screwed up. All because of the damned demons that killed my family and tried to kill me. How is this not going to be that bad?” She ran her hand over her face and through her hair. “I don’t mean to snap at you, it’s not your fault, Sammy; I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know how to do this.” A harsh sigh escaped her lips, then froze in her chest and Sara tilted her head. She heard footsteps outside that made her swallow hard. “He’s coming back.”

“Dean isn’t as bad as you think, I promise. And if you’re trapped there, he’s going to figure it out; it’d be better if you explained it all to him,” Sam advised. “Just breathe, short-stack.”

“Oh, bite me,” she growled at him and hung up. The nickname had started when they were younger, when the brothers met her at Bobby’s house. Sara had been five-feet tall at the time, still awaiting another growth spurt, while both brothers were nearing fix feet.

Dean walked in on her words and chuckled while he looked a question at her. Before he could ask, however, he paused and scented the air; she smelled different than when he had left. “Sara?” he asked, voice uncertain.

“Dammit,” she whispered and pushed herself to her feet. He stayed near the door, watched her move, and Sara walked to the kitchen island, placed it between them while she spoke. “Should’ve known you’d be able to tell faster. Of course, this isn’t like most of them have been in the past…”

“But, you’re a _beta_ ,” he argued, though even his voice was uncertain.

“Technically, no.”

Dean frowned heavily at her. “What do you mean, ‘technically’? Either you are, or you aren’t.”

“All right; yes, I’m an omega. But, it’s not that simple,” Sara replied, motioning him to sit across from her at the island.

He sat, but when she seemed reluctant to continue, her eyes downcast, he prompted. “Okay. So, explain it to me.”

“The demon attack that killed my family,” Sara said with a twist of her lips. “I had just started to present, barely started my first heat, when they came. To this day, I still don’t know why they picked us, what the thought was behind killing all of them, almost me, but…” Sara cleared her throat and shook her head while she gathered her thoughts. “You’ve seen the scars; they shoved metal rebar through my stomach. I wasn’t expected to live, the doctors worked hard to save me, but it was touch-and-go. But the damage that bar did... It destroyed most of my reproductive organs; I had to have my uterus, one ovary, both tubes, and my cervix removed. The ovary that’s left… It’s there to stop me from going into early menopause, but it didn’t escape without damage.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered while he ran a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, Sara.”

She shrugged. “I don’t have proper heats because of it; my body just doesn’t have the ability to produce the hormones for it. But, every now and then…”

Dean looked around the cabin with a frown, then turned back to her. “That’s why you have this cabin. You come here when you go into heat?” he guessed.

“Bobby gave it to me years ago,” Sara confirmed softly. “When my body started showing signs that it was going into heat again, I was nineteen. He brought me here, let me have some space so I could see what was going to happen. We kept this place a secret from everyone so that I could have somewhere to go and deal, without anyone else knowing.”

Dean nodded in response, but suddenly, a thought occurred to him. “Sam knew about the cabin.”

Sara flushed and nodded. “Once my body settled into a…a rhythm, I started going into heat about every six to eight months. He’s been helping me out with them for a number of years now.”

Dean stood and walked around to where she stood; he could see the tremble to her body, but as he got closer, her breathing deepened. He reached out, touched her chin gently and pulled her gaze up to meet his own. “Why didn’t you ever tell me? Why come up here to hide?”

“Because I’m fucked up, Dean,” she replied, her face incredulous. She pulled back to move away from him. “I can’t even…” Sara turned away and shook her head. “My body doesn’t respond the way an omega’s should; it’s why you’ve always thought I was a beta. Aside from the few times I get a peak like this, have you _ever_ suspected?”

“No, not a clue,” he admitted. Dean watched her shudder and he frowned. “We can’t get to Sammy from here; I know you’d rather it was him, and I’m sorry. But I _can_ help, Sara.”

She blushed and shook her head. “It’s not that I prefer him, necessarily,” she replied. “I just…” Sara looked at him and frowned. “Sam found out, and I couldn’t hide it from him. He knows all of my…issues. It’s just easier with him.” She shivered, biting her lip while she studied his body, swallowed hard.

He watched her struggle and stepped closer. “Show me what you need, Sara,” Dean said, his voice a soft growl.

She pulled off her clothes, careful of the stitches on her leg and beckoned him forward. She watched him bare his chest, kick off his boots and socks, until he wore only his jeans, then stood in front of her. Sara smiled softly that he was letting her lead, but glad for it. She cleared her throat and reached for his hand, figured it was easiest to show him while she spoke. “One of the biggest differences, between me and other omegas, is that my body doesn’t respond physically the way it should,” she whispered while she drew his fingers between her legs.

Dean was surprised to find her dry, and he understood her words. Though he could smell her hormone surge, he couldn’t detect any hint of her wetness; and this close, he should be drowning in it. He leaned down and nuzzled her neck briefly as he drew away his hand to lick his fingers before he placed them back between her legs to stroke her slowly. “So, tell me, how do you and Sam manage?” he asked, nipping along her jaw.

Sara’s hips rocked with his stroking and she groaned, her nails digging into his shoulders while she said, “Side table drawer.” She pulled his mouth to hers, sought out his tongue and groaned, pressed her breasts against his chest.

Dean returned the kiss eagerly, a growl rumbling deep in his chest when she pulled away and crawled onto the bed. Sara bowed low, rested her head on her hands and glanced back at him, her hips held high and presented. A slow grin spread across his face. He carefully removed his jeans and dropped them to the floor while he moved to the bedside table and opened the drawer; there he found a bottle of lubricant.

The sound of him cracking open the top of the bottle made her shudder, her eyes closed while she gripped at the sheets and waited. When his fingers stroked her again, they were cool, covered with lube, and she sucked in a breath, then pressed against his hand.

“Tell me what you want, Sara,” he murmured softly. “I’ll give you whatever you want, but only if you tell me.”

“Take me,” she whispered, voice hoarse. “Dammit, if it wasn’t for my leg, I’d say make it as hard as you want. But hard. And I need your knot, Dean. Soon.”

He grinned at her breathy tone while he slowly slid two fingers into her body. He felt her clench around them, and Dean growled, leaning down to bite her back. He heard her moan lowly as her hips pushed back onto him, and he grinned against her skin. “You do like it rough, don’t you, darlin'?”

“Ride me like you stole me,” she replied, rocking her hips and whining when he pulled his hand from her.

Dean stared down at her while he made certain he was covered in lube; he didn’t want to risk hurting her. With one hand, he gripped her hip, the other guided himself, and a deep groan worked from deep in his belly at how tight she was.

Sara held herself still and relished the feel of him working her open; slow thrusts until he was buried, and their hips met. He was wider than his brother, nearly as long, and Sam always prepped her more; Sara was glad that for once, someone had taken her at her word.

He felt the shudder that rippled through her body underneath him, and Dean paused to drape himself over her back. He wrapped his hand lightly over her throat, nipped her earlobe, and growled, “Are you ready for me, Sara?”

She reached up and dragged her nails over his scalp. “Make me wait much longer, Winchester, and I’ll make you regret it,” she warned.

Dean chuckled and nipped at her earlobe. He placed her hands back on the bed again and withdrew from her slowly, listening to her whine. Biting his lip, he stared down at her as he pushed back in sharply, watched her eyes close and her mouth hanging open.

His first real thrust brought an inhuman noise from deep in her chest. Sara grabbed the sheets, rotated her hips, and growled, “Don’t stop.”

Dean took her at her word and rode her hard, his hips slapping against her own. He slipped one hand down and rubbed her clit in time with his strokes, his other hand continued to hold her throat lightly.

Sara groaned, leaned harder into his hand at his neck, and thrust back against him. Her thigh hurt from being jostled, but the pleasure overruled the pain; she could feel his knot starting to swell, and she wanted it buried inside her desperately.

He sank his teeth not her shoulder, hard enough to draw blood, and Dean felt her stiffen under him, her body clenching hard. When she begged him to do it again, he growled and sat back on his heels, released her throat and gripped her hip instead. “Only if you’re a good girl and come for me,” he ground out.

Sitting up gave him a better angle; his hips rode her harder, though his thrusts were shorter as his knot gave him less room to pull out. Sara reached down with one hand and toyed with her nipples, pulled at them, and felt herself drawing closer. Her body clenched around him, sweat ran down the line of her back and harsh sounds fell from her lips each time his hips slammed into hers. “Dean… Almost…”

“I can feel it, darlin',” he agreed. He bent and licked up her spine before he locked his teeth onto her shoulder blade and slapped her clit lightly. The pain and pleasure combined to make Sara cry out, her body clamped down while she screamed his name. Dean wrapped one arm around her waist, the other hugged her shoulders, and he continued to rut into her; his knot swelled, and his orgasm followed hers.

Sara felt his body shudder around her, his body locked tightly into her own, and she let out a long sigh of relief. She let out a soft cry of surprise when he rolled them onto their sides, grateful that he had remembered her injuries and laid them on her uninjured hip.

Dean tucked his knees up under Sara’s ass, his body wrapped fully around hers, and he ran a hand over her face. “How you feeling?”

She smiled, her breathing still unsteady, as she nodded. “I’m good,” she assured. “That was…exactly what I wanted.” Sara twisted her upper body slightly, so she could see his face, but winced when it pulled at the skin on her thigh.

“Easy there; we’re trying not to hurt you here, remember?” he said with a frown.

“At least, no more than I want to be hurt,” she teased.

Dean chuckled and watched as she closed her eyes, arched her back as she movement shifted him inside of her. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “Tell me something, Sara?” he asked softly, his hand gently stroking down her side. When she nodded, a curious frown on her face, he asked, “Have you ever been with anyone when you weren’t in heat?”

She stiffened slightly and turned away from his gaze but was literally trapped against him. A humourless laugh fell from her lips. “It’s not like we have relationships in this line of work, Dean,” she muttered.

“I know, but that’s not what I meant. And I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No, I know, I just…” Sara’s voice died off and she let out a long sigh. “How can I tell a one-night stand I need a bottle of lube? And how can I trust them to use it? So, no, I don’t sleep with anyone outside of a heat. And to be totally honest… It’s now only ever been you and Sam. I don’t trust anyone else.”

Dean kissed the back of her head gently, hugged her against his chest. “No more hiding when you’re in heat,” he growled. He felt her body shudder as his chest vibrated against her back. “You don’t have to leave the bunker, just find one of us. Hell, find one of us when you’re not in heat and just want to.”

Sara felt his knot soften enough that he slipped from her body, and she tried to pull away, but Dean kept her in his arms. She settled for turning to face him and reached up to stroke his face. “What are you saying to me?”

“You’ve watched me and Sammy go out when we want to…”

“Pop your knots, yes,” she agreed with a grin when Dean’s voice trailed off.

Dean chuckled and nodded. “Okay, we’ll phrase it that way. I get why you don’t go out and find anyone that way. But if you ever have that itch you want scratched; just ask. Hell, just show up and start taking off clothes. Neither of us will ever say no.”

“Won’t it screw up the friendship, Dean?” she asked, biting her lip.

“Has it for you and Sam?”

She smiled softly and shook her head. “No, not at all.”

Dean nodded. He could feel her skin starting to heat up where she was pressed against him. “How long do your heats usually last?”

Her breath caught as his hand found its way between her legs to stroke her again, and she closed her eyes with a hum. “Day-and-a-half, to two-and-a-half,” she whispered breathily. “Not long.”

“Mmm, long enough,” he growled and rolled her onto her back. Dean licked his way down her abdomen and paused between her legs. “Kinda glad we got trapped here, darlin'. Gonna be a fun few days.”


End file.
